Track 13: False Gods

Track 13: False Gods sits in my hand like a lacquered round of midnight, its surface a glossy obsidian that drinks the light. The disc is cool and perfectly flat, a circle of memory that catches the lamp and hums with a low, almost living warmth. On its face, a ring of runes is etched in gold foil, fractured like a temple's broken glass, and a silhouette—two ruined towers leaning toward a vanished skyline—hovers in the center as if listening for footsteps long gone. The sleeve is brushed paper, the kind that leaves a bluish impression on your fingers, and the track's name has been lettered with patient care, as though it were a dedication rather than a product. When you tilt it, the edge shows a micro-ridge of texture, not rough enough to catch on fabric, but just enough to remind you that this is something made to be held, played, and remembered. When the track breathes, you hear more than music. There is a distant choir, the tolling of ceremonial bells, and a cadence that carries the weight of a long, sighing oath. Some players call it a relic from the old priesthood who claimed to speak with the “false gods”—a phrase that never meant deceit so much as a misunderstanding of a power that refused to be bowled into a single creed. The melody slides from somber to resolute, like footsteps across cracked stone, and in the quieter moments you can hear a whisper of wind through an empty sanctum. It is not simply a tune; it is a key to a memory of power. In the game’s rhythm, Track 13: False Gods is a versatile instrument. Trigger it in a quiet corner of a camp, and it lowers your campfire into a silvered hush where vendors drift in and out and the night feels a little heavier with history. In a guild hall or hidden nook, it can unlock a subtle atmospheric vignette—an echo of drums behind the drums, a chorus that swells just enough to color a scene without breaking immersion. It also serves as a collectible that can be traded or displayed, a story in your inventory that invites others to ask: where did you find it, and what memories does it carry? Prices drift across the market like coins on a breeze, and that is where Saddlebag Exchange becomes part of the tale. A trader with his cart of maps and charms might name a price in silver, then hesitate, thinking of the stories bound into the track, the hands that once held it, and the long road between owner and buyer. A happy bargain might land it for a little shy of two silver; a rarer condition piece could fetch more, but the human impulse to trade is what gives Track 13 its life beyond the disc. Its resonance.